Hugh of Emmaus
by Leonidas 82
Summary: The land is growing in intrigue. Hugh finds himself ambushed by a mysterious opponent. Death and love are returning too his life. Chapter 3 and 4 up! R&R always welcome!
1. Default Chapter

**Hugh of Emmaus **

**Part One: "Under the Stars"**

**Castle Emmaus, Emmaus**

**Kingdom of Jerusalem**

**April, 11th 1170**

The Baron, Wimarc of Emmaus, stood across from his nephew and ward Hugh. At forty-two, Wimarc stood at six foot two and was a bear of man. With light brown hair tied back into a ponytail, long beard, and broad shoulders, he looked very much like the Norman he was. In contrast, Hugh, being only fifteen, was quite the opposite. He was only five foot ten, but of similar build. His hair was shorter, and had a darker brown tone too it. He had yet too grow a beard, but stubble was starting too grow on his chin. They both held swords, as they commenced with their daily practice duel, before retiring for dinner in the main hall.

"Hold the blade higher!" his uncle, Wimarc, ordered. Hugh raised his sword like his uncle said. He held it at level with his shoulders and slightly off too his right, in a defensive posture. "Good. Now Block!" His uncle brought his own blade around and snapped two quick hits aimed at Hugh's neck. He parried both, but only barely. He watched his uncle's hands as the larger man brought another blow down aimed at his head. Hugh quickly shot his own blade up at a horizontal angle to block. At the last moment his uncle pivoted too his right and swung the blade around Hugh's defenses and popped him on the hip with the flat edge of his blade.

"AGGHH!" Hugh cried as he was forced on his knees by the stinging blow. He struggled too stand up again.

"What'd you do wrong boy?" his uncle asked relaxing his stance.

Hugh felt exhausted, "I should have been watching your shoulders, not your hands. The pivot came from your shoulders."

His uncle clasped a hand on Hugh's shoulder. "You haven't made that mistake in years. What's on your mind? Why weren't you focusing?"

Hugh sighed, "Just something Father Gregory said at mass. I feel a little conflicted."

"What are you conflicted over?" Wimarc asked his ward and nephew.

"You have always taught me Christ is loving and merciful. And that we should seek too be like him." Hugh said.

"I believe all of that. Yes. What conflicts you? The nature of our Lord?" his uncle asked.

"No. What I question is how it is God's will too murder Moslems. Rome should be teaching these people a message of love and salvation. Yet all they send the followers of Mohammed is a sword." Hugh responded.

"Is Rome speaking for God, or for themselves? I wonder that too sometimes." Wimarc gave Hugh a reassuring pat on the back. "We'll speak more of this over dinner."

Hugh sat three chairs down from his uncle, who was seated at the head of the large oak table. Seated across from him was his uncles' castellan, Conrad, who smiled back at Hugh when they noticed each other. All around them were seated various knights, and their wives. The dinner consisted of assorted roasted birds and stews, the servants in the kitchen had worked up. The topics of conversation ranged from military thought too religious doctrines of the Eastern Church. Hugh was growing increasingly bored as the hour dragged on. Conrad sensed this and spoke up from across the table. "How's your stance and form progressing? Will you be riding with us too battle soon?"

Hugh sat up when he realized was the one being addressed."I...uh...feel my form is improving, but my mind wanders some during combat. I would rather be handling a lute than sword."

Conrad laughed, "You're a young lad. You should enjoy it while you can."

"What do you mean?" Hugh asked.

"When you get my age, you'll find yourself doing a lot of things, without thinking at all. Enjoy day-dreaming while you can." Conrad replied.

Theobauld, Wimarcs seneschal, cut in. "How old are you exactly Conrad?"

"Still young enough too whip you into shape, runt!" Conrad glared back.

Laughter erupted all around the table, Hugh included. Conrad looked like he was fuming, but Hugh got the feeling he was laughing inside as well.

Amid the laughter, a knight walked into the dinning hall and walked up to Wimarc and whispered in his ear. The baron listened intently too what was being said and raised his hand too quiet the chatter in the hall. He nodded to the young knight and returned his attention too the others. He stood and addressed all who were seated and assembled. "I have just been told that Raymond has returned from Nazareth, with the merchant he was too escorted. The merchant is a very wealthy and influential Armenian named Eznik. He is waiting outside with his young son and daughter. Tomorrow Raymond will take them the rest of the way too Jaffa. For now I have invited them too join us for the remainder of the meal. Keep the jokes too a minimum if you will all be so kind."

A hush fell over the hall as Raymond, one of Wimarcs favorite knights, walked in. He was tall man with a flaming red beard and shoulder length hair. Behind him was an olive skinned man of average build and height, with black hair and mustache, wearing Arabic garb. On either side of him were children dressed very similar. On his right was a boy who couldn't be any older then eight. And on his left was a young girl who looked maybe thirteen or fourteen.

Seeing the girl made Hugh perk up a bit and sit-up straighter. He couldn't see her face because she was wearing a veil across. She had lovely eyes as far as he could tell. She was definitely thin, with a developing figure, and beautiful black hair tied in a long braid. As she approached the center of the hall she turned and looked at Hugh as well and her facial feature changed for a moment. 'Did she just smile at me?' Hugh thought, and hoped, to himself.

"My lord, Wimarc. May I introduce, Eznik of Nazareth? A rather successful cloth and silk trader. And with him are, his son Sahak, and his daughter Lucine." Raymond stated matter of factly. He bowed ever so slightly, and stepped too the side and let Eznik step forward.

Wimarc stepped forward a grasped Eznik's hand warmly. He introduced each knight as he went around the table, along with their wives. He finally got around the table too Hugh. "This is my nephew, and ward Hugh." He stood briskly and bowed his head slightly. As he sat back down, he thought he saw Lucine smile at him again from under her veil, but he couldn't be certain. 'Damn! I wish she weren't wearing that thing.' he thought to himself.

The meal progressed for another hour, with idle small talk and chit-chat. After finishing the last of his meal, Hugh stood up and addressed his uncle. "If I may be excused my lord, I have a few private matters too attend too." He made sure too keep all of the formality, since they had company present. 'And her present.' he confessed to himself. He waited until his uncle gave him an approving nod. Then excused himself.

Hugh left the hall and walked across the main courtyard, too the keep, where his quarters were. he entered is room and grabbed the lute sitting on the top of his bed. He left through the same door and walked across the hallway and towards the stairs leading too the castles eastern parapet. When he reached the top and saw all of the stars hanging above he finally let out a sigh of relief. He sat down against the stone wall propped his leg up and balanced the instrument. He began playing a few chords slowly. Not hearing the tone the way he was hoping for, he changed the position of his index finger and thumb, and tried again. "There it is." he said and began again. He tried too remember the song of his home, he learned before leaving.

_"Life is a song we must sing with our days_

_A poem with meaning more than words can say_

_A painting with colors no rainbow can tell_

_A lyric that rhymes either heaven or hell._

_We are living letters that doubt desecrates_

_We're the notes of the song of the chorus of faith_

_God shapes every second of our little lives_

_And minds every minute as the universe waits by._

_So look in the mirror and pray for the grace_

_To tear off the mask, see the art of your face_

_Open your ear lids to hear the sweet song_

_Of each moment that passes and pray to prolong._

_Your time in the ball of the dance of your days_

_Your canvas of colors of moments ablaze_

_With all that is holy, with the joy and the strife_

_With the rhythm and rhyme of the poem of your life."_

Suddenly Hugh was surprised by someone behind him lightly clapping. He turned and saw Lucine standing in the doorway at the top of the stairs. She had removed the veil, and was prettier than even Hugh had imagined. Her smile was even brighter than he had envisioned through the veil. "Your good on that 'Hugh of Emmaus'. Though I wonder are you a son of knights or minstrels?"

Hugh stood up and bowed his head in respect. "My lady. I'm sorry I didn't know you were listening."

"'My lady'?" she repeated his greeting. "I didn't know I was 'your' lady."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by-"he started to say.

She cut him off by putting a finger gently on his lips. "It's alright. I was only playing with you. You're genuinely a sweet person Hugh. Your not polite because you have too be, but because you sincerely choose too be."

"Thank you. You flatter me. "he thought a moment. "Would you like to join me under the stars? "he asked as he pointed up too the night sky.

She smiled and they walked over and sat down side by side. "Sing me a song you might sing for a pretty French girl, on a pretty French night."

"I've never seen a pretty French girl. Nor have I ever sat in France on a pretty night. "He thought again for a second. "But I have seen a beautiful eastern girl, on gorgeous eastern night."

She smiled again and kissed him on the cheek, and he sang too her for the rest of the night, under the stars.

END CHAPTER ONE.


	2. Chapter Two

**Prologue...**

Lucine leaned forward as the sun came up and gave Hugh another kiss on the cheek. Hugh had been singing to her all night. He wasn't a professional minstrel, but he did his best to keep her entertained. Nothing 'inappropriate' had happened. Although Hugh had too admit to himself, the thought was on his mind. As she got up too return too her room downstairs, Hugh grasped her shoulder. "Will I see you again Lucine?"

She turned around and smiled again, and undid the knot the still held her veil too the side of one of her braids. She held it out too Hugh and he hesitantly took it. She walked up to Hugh and whispered in his ear. "One day that veil will be the only thing between us." She kissed him on the cheek again, and went downstairs and he hadn't seen her again since.

**Castle Emmaus, Emmaus**

**Kingdom of Jerusalem**

**March 14th 1172**

Hugh was startled awake again by the memory of Lucines' kiss. He looked down and found himself lying in bed. He rubbed his cheeks and felt the spot where she had touched him with her lips. He felt a beard where in his dream had been bare skin. 'A whole two years...' he thought to himself. He had dreamt of her often, but hadn't seen her since that night.

He threw the sheets on his bed back and swung his legs around to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. He ran his hands through his hair, and began stretching and popped his shoulders. He pushed up with his hands and stood up slowly stretching his legs. He walked over toward a chest he had against the wall and opened the lid. He reached inside and removed a white cotton shirt. He quickly got dressed. And put his boots on. He walked back over too the chest and pulled his sword sheathed in it's scabbard, and riveted too his belt and strapped the belt around his waist, and secured his sword too his left hip. He reached into the chest one last time, and withdrew a purple veil from underneath a few more shirts. It had a yellow moon pattern embroidered across the front. Tying it around his wrist, he shut the lid on the chest, and walked out of his room, shutting the door behind him.

Hugh quickly made his way across the courtyard, and walked into the main hall where his uncle always convened with his knights. He got too the table and noticed that only his uncle, Wimarc, was sitting at the head of the table, reading over some papers. He was completely occupied by the material he was looking over, but heard Hugh's steps as he approached. He looked up and saw his nephew, and smiled. He put his papers down and pushed his chair back and stood up from his work. He walked over and as he got closer to Hugh, he drew his sword. Hugh took a step back reaching for his own sword hesitantly. When he got within range Wimarc swung for Hugh's side. Hugh pulled his own sword out with a practiced swiftness, and easily parried the blow. Wimarc swung the next blow, for Hugh's neck, which Hugh's blocked as well. His uncle tried once more with a blow aimed for his nephews head. Hugh angled his sword up and blocked this blow as well, but reached out, and grabbed the tip of his sword with his hand and hammered his uncles' blade down with the cross-guard of his sword, and brought the pommel forward into Wimarcs chest. His uncle took a step back and caught his breath from the blow, and held his hand up, for Hugh too stop. "Very good boy! You're coming with us."

"Come with you! Where? "Hugh seemed astonished as he re-sheathed his sword and his uncle did the same.

His uncle smiled again. "Jerusalem. Antioch. Jaffa. Tyre. Where God takes us!"

"Protecting the pilgrims and merchants?" Hugh seemed unable too accept the fact that he was ready.

"Yes!" Wimarc replied. "It's time you participate." He walked past Hugh and stood at the door. "Conrad!"

A few moments passed, and then Conrad, the castellan of Emmaus, walked in dressed fully in chainmail."Yes my lord?"

"Hugh is ready. Take him too the armory. Suit him up!" Wimarc stated proudly.

"Yes sir!" Conrad bowed and led Hugh from the hall.

Hugh and Conrad walked across the courtyard to the other side of the castle and entered a building adjacent too the keep. Conrad pulled a set of keys, which hung on a large ring from his belt. They came too a large steel door set into the side of the stone building. Conrad put a large key into the lock that hung from the door, below the handle. He unlocked and then pulled the door open. 'Step inside Hugh."

They walked inside the large room, and Conrad shut the door behind them. Hugh walked forward too a circular foyer, where he saw the sun shining on the ground through the glass windows from up by the roof. He heard Conrad walk up behind him and turned too see what the castellan was doing. He turned too see Conrad holding up a shirt and leg set of chainmail. "Put it on. See how it looks."

Hugh stepped back into his uncles' main hall. Wimarc turned and saw his nephew in full chainmail, except for his head and neck, and dressed in a yellow and blue tunic. He smiled for a moment, stood, and walked over too where Hugh was now standing. "Well you look ready for war. Lets find out."

"When are we leaving? Where?" Hugh asked.

"Jaffa. There are a group of French pilgrims seeking escort too Jerusalem then on to Bethlehem. We ride out in an hour, so get something too eat."

Hugh nodded and bowed his head too his uncle. "At once."

The heat was intense, and the suns bright as midday started too approach. The total group of men marching behind Wimarc numbered around twenty. All of them were mounted on horseback and heavily armored. Wimarc's new seneschal, a young Norman named Gamel, carried the banner of Emmaus high as they marched northwest on the road headed for Jaffa.

Hugh rode a few feet behind Gamel and next to Raymond, his uncles lead knight. He looked at the red-headed warrior and asked. "How often do these caravans get attacked?"

Raymond turned and replied, "Not as often as the bards sing about, young sir, but often enough too be an annoyance. Saracen raiders from Amman and Damascus, hide in the many Moslem communities across the countryside. I'd say one out of every five pilgrim caravans get attacked."

"How big are these raiding parties?" Hugh asked.

Raymond contemplated the answer for a moment. "Varies. I've never encountered a group larger than ten. Some of the people who ride the roads between Karak and Jerusalem have reported groups as big as fifty. But they aren't ever heavily armored, or well trained."

The group from Emmaus rode for another four hours without incident. They finally came within sight of the walls of the busy port city, of Jaffa. Traffic was heavy on the roads in both directions. The city gates were wide open as pilgrims, merchants, and soldiers came into and out of the city.

Wimarc called the column too a halt, and turned too address his men. "Raymond. Take five men and go meet these pilgrims down by the docks. I'll keep the remainder of our men outside the gates and wait for your return. The sooner we're on the road the better."

Raymond nodded, and began calling out names, he named off one after another until he paused at the final name,"...and Hugh."

Hugh's attention had been on the view of Jaffa, but quickly turned around when he heard his name called. "Me?"

Raymond gave Wimarc a look. Wimarc spoke up, "Why not? Hugh. Go earn your spurs!"

Raymond led the men along the crowded streets of Jaffa. The city's markets were packed with buyers, sellers, and foreign merchants pressing their wares on all who passed by. The public squares were overcrowded with peasant and noble alike, listening too charismatic clergy men speaking and ranting about killing the infidels. Soldiers of various banners and Military Orders were streaming too and from the area of the dock.

As they got closer towards the docks, Hugh noticed a segregated market down by the shore, composed almost entirely of Moslem merchants. He looked on as a view of the Arab men looking at him with cold stares. Only a few made any gesture of greeting has Raymond's group passed them.

Hugh noticed a group of about fifteen various men and women getting off a ship that had apparently just tied down on the dock. Hugh motioned to Raymond and pointed at them. The red-headed knight nodded and trotted up to the lead man who had just reached the bottom of the ramp leading from the boat deck. Raymond dismounted from his horse and greeted the man in French. "Godspeed good sir! Are you Etienne of Marseilles?"

The man nodded, and in a heavy French accent replied, "I am. I assume you are Baron Wimarc of Emmaus?"

"I'm afraid I do not have the honor of that title. My name is Raymond of Emmaus. The Baron waits with the remainder of our men just outside the city walls. If we..." Raymond was interrupted by a series of shouts from down the shore has a mob of Moslems were forming around a ship berthed in the next dock. The Arab men and women were shouting something in their native tongue, which neither Hugh nor Raymond understood. The clear target of their seething shouts was an Italian priest standing on the boat deck denouncing the crowd in Greek. "I will not step foot in a city that contains this heathen scum!" Obviously enough of the Moslems in the crowd understood him. For they were becoming more hostile by the moment.

"Dammit! This could degenerate into a full riot!" Raymond snapped off into no one in particular. He turned toward Hugh and Theobauld, the knight on horseback next too him. "You two! Stay with Etienne and the others! I'll go get some of the local knights too lend a hand!" Raymond remounted his horse and led the remaining three men down the street at a fast gallop. Theobauld and Hugh just stared at each other, and both dismounted and removed their shields and drew their swords and stood in front of Etienne, praying that mob didn't look this way and see them.

They weren't so lucky. A man near the rear and noticed both men's swords and that they were standing guard over Etienne. He shouted something in Arabic too the crowd, which by now had grown double in size and anger since Raymond had ridden off. About half the mob began walking in Hugh's direction chanting something he couldn't make out. One of them picked up a rock on the street and hurled it at Theobauld, which just shattered on his shield. Both he and Hugh were clearly getting nervous.

Suddenly another rock flew by Hugh's head and missed Etienne, but hit one of the other pilgrims in the stomach. "Enough." Hugh turned around and looked at Etienne and the other pilgrims who had gathered to watch. "Get back on the boat now!" The Frenchman didn't need too be convinced, and he told the others with him too follow Hugh's orders. When the Christians had gotten back on the boat, Hugh and Theobauld stood on station at the end bottom of the ships ramp. The two of them side by side, effectively blocking the entrance to the ramp. Silence fell over the crowd as Hugh and Theobauld swung their swords trying too keep the mob at bay.

One man tried too come in at Hugh's left, but he swung his blade and cut the man down. Someone tried too attack Theobauld on his right but, he was likewise cut down. Seeing some of their people go down, the crowd backed up a little bit. Hugh stayed where he was, but Theobauld stepped forward a few steps and exposed his right side. Out of the corner of his eye, Hugh saw someone run out of the crowd with a knife at Theobaulds right flank. "Theo!" Hugh ran forward brushing past Theobauld as he passed behind him. The attacker was gutted by Hugh before he realized what had happened. Too late, Hugh realized, he had stabbed a woman, no a girls, who couldn't be any older than twelve. He looked down and saw the blood flowing down the swords handle, and onto his leather gauntlets. He dropped his sword and the girl fell too the ground dead.

"Oh my God..."Hugh muttered too himself and fell too his knees. He quickly yanked the sword out of the girl and checked for a heartbeat. She had none.

The crowd just stared at Hugh in stunned silence. Before anything could be done on their part, a cry erupted from further up the street behind the mob. They turned and looked at the source of the sound, as did Theobauld. It was Raymond charging on horseback followed by his own men and a group of about twenty Templar and Hospitallers. They were all on horse back, and they hit the mob head on. Most of the mob immediately dispersed, but the few who remained and tried too stand their ground were cut down.

The Italian priest came up behind Hugh, and placed his hand reassuringly on his shoulder. "Fear not my son. Killing heathens isn't murder. You haven't committed any sin toda-" the priest's rant was cut off, has Hugh's fist connected with the mans jaw, which knocked him out cold.

"Her blood is on your hands too..."Hugh decreed in solemn voice.

END OF CHAPTER TWO


	3. Chapter 3

**Somewhere between Jaffa and Jerusalem,**

**Kingdom of Jerusalem**

**March 14th 1172**

Hugh rode side by side with his uncle, Wimarc. His actions in the harbor of Jaffa had earned the respect of the knights of his uncle's house. Decking a priest had earned the scorn of clergy. The one fact that had kept Hugh out of trouble was that the Italian priest was living under excommunication from Rome. Had the cleric been in the pope's favor, Hugh might have had a larger problem.

The column of knights stretched out about two-hundred feet down the road. They formed two single file lines, of twenty-five men each, on both extremes of the road. In between the two line road a caravan of French men and women, led by the bishop, Etienne of Marseilles. A rather pious man, who held the Moslems in low regard. Hugh thought.

Hugh, trotted forward a little bit, and rode up beside Raymond. The red-haired warrior clearly had something on his mind. He looked too his right and saw Hugh ride forward and put his own horse in step with his lords ward. "You did well Hugh. You and Theobauld protected the pilgrims well, and you protected your brother in arms too the utmost expectation."

Hugh had a lot on his mind as well. "I may have defended Theo, but I killed a child none the less."

"You acted bravely and on instinct. That 'child' would have killed you without hesitation." Raymond replied.

Hugh sighed. "I may not have murdered her, but I still cut down a child."

"You're a soldier. And will, one day, be a knight and Baron of Emmaus. So sometimes you might be required to do things that are unpleasant too do." Raymond stated.

"You think I'll be a decent knight? A good baron?" Hugh asked.

Wimarc heard the conversation at this point, and rode back while the column moved on. "Hugh. Don't try to be a great man. Just try too be a good one. God will see too the rest. He always does."

The column came too a rest at dusk. And camped by a small ravine just off the road. The pilgrims set up camp slightly apart from the knight's camp. The men of Emmaus had put themselves between the pilgrims and the road. They set up sentries on scheduled watches and set up camp fires.

Hugh walked with his dinner and found Theo sitting around a fire talking with Gamel, Wimarcs seneschal. He walked up too them and asked, "Can I sit?"

Theo looked up from the fire and nodded. "Please do/"

Hugh sat down and chewed on a piece of bread, and downed some mead, from his wineskin. "How are you doing Theo?"

Theo smiled, "Trying to regain a little bit of dignity, after being out maneuvered by a little girl with a knife. What about you? I hope you're not being too hard on yourself. I for one am in your debt."

"I'll get over it." Hugh muttered with a hollow laugh.

Gamel sat on across form the fire, and finally spoke up. "Who is she Hugh?"

"To whom are you referring?" Hugh asked.

"Her." Gamel pointed too Hugh's, arm. Hugh looked down and saw the veil he kept tied around his wrist. "Every time I see you, you're wearing that thing around your wrist. Who was she? She must have been special too you."

Hugh just stared at the veil, then smiled. "If I ever marry Gamel, I pray she will be my wife. That's all I can bring myself too say."

Gamel smiled, and Theobauld laughed, "Keep your secrets then. I'll just bug Conrad until he finally tells me."

Hugh looked up genuinely surprised. "What do you mean Conrad will tell you?"

"I once asked your uncle if he knew anything about that veil and he said he didn't. But Conrad claimed he spied the two of you together. But as your friend he said he won't betray your secret."

Hugh smiled. "I hadn't been aware he knew. I'll have a word with him myself, when I get back too Emmaus."

Hugh felt something nudging him moderately hard in the side. He opened his eyes and saw the other men asleep around him. He realized the nudging was coming from behind him. He rolled over and saw Raymond standing a few feet from him holding the reins too two horses. "What time is it?"

Raymond laughed, "Early. About a half an hour after dawn. Take a ride with me."

"Where too?" Hugh asked.

"Just a few miles up the road, and then back. Scouting mission." Raymond answered.

Raymond and Hugh rode at a slow pace east along the road. Raymond had barely given Hugh time enough to grab some food Even has he was riding he was chewing down some bread and drinking some water. Likewise Raymond was munching on a roll.

Raymond broke the silence,"Hows the lute paying coming?"

"Fine." Hugh replied between swallows. "But why do I get the feeling you didn't wake me up too talk music?"

"Because I didn't wake you up for that." Raymond answered.

"Then mind telling me why I'm up before the Lord wakes up?" Hugh asked getting a little short tempered.

"Your uncle wanted me too make sure you are really okay after what happened in the city. And get a few things clear on how you feel." Raymond replied.

Hugh inquired, "Why isn't he asking me himself?"

"Your uncle is a noble. Which means one thing."

"What?"

"He gets too sleep as late as he wants."

Hugh laughed for a good half-minute before Raymond continued. "So. Are you really okay?"

"It'll be with me for a long time, and I think it should be. But, yeah, I'm okay."

"Good. I asked your uncle for something and he granted it, as long as you agree, of course."

"What?" Hugh looked apprehensive.

Raymond took moment, then continued. "How would you feel about riding with me permanently? Well until the day comes your uncle knights you that is."

"I'd be honored." Hugh answered. "I have only one term."

"Which is?"

"If our mission takes us too Nazareth, tell me before we leave out. Agreed?"

"Yeah sure. That's not much of a demand." Raymond replied. "But what's in Nazareth that interests you?"

Hugh held up his left wrist with the veil tied around it. "Her."

Raymond thought silently, then spoke up. "The only people you ever met from Nazareth, which I know about, was that cloth trader. What was his name...uh...Eznik I think."

"That's correct. Though he's not the one I'm thinking about."

Raymond thought back again, "His daughter!"

Hugh nodded.

"What was her name?" Raymond asked. He started snapping his fingers in front of his face has if that would help him remember somehow.

Hugh saved him the trouble."Lucine. Her name is Lucine"

"Why did you keep it from your uncle? He wouldn't have disapproved, just because she was an Armenian."

"I don't know. I just never did."

"You and her didn't...you know...you know?" Raymond asked, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

"No. Not that I haven't wished we had. Why do you ask?"

"Because your uncle would've disapproved of that."

"Why?"

"Eznik would've been furious if you had made him a grandfather, and your uncle would have parted ways with a large sum of gold. And that would have made him very angry."

"I see your point." Hugh confessed.

"I have one term of my own, if this going to work." Raymond stated.

"Yes?"

"No matter how much they may deserve it, try too refrain from punching any more priests."

Hugh smiled. "I promise nothing!"

With that, they Raymond roared with laughter as they turned and rode back for the camp.

END CHAPTER THREE


	4. Chapter 4

**Hugh of Emmaus: Chapter 04**

**On the Road Between Caesarea and Nazareth**

**Kingdom of Jerusalem**

**April, 11th 1170**

Hugh rode his mare with only half awareness. Blood flowed from around the arrow wound in his shoulder and ran down his chainmail. He tore off a piece of his blue and yellow tunic and tied it around his upper arm, and clotted off the bleeding. He was getting light-headed, and dehydrated. It had been an hour and a half since he had been ambushed on the road. There had been three Saracens on foot. They had been hitting travelers on the road for days. Unfortunately Hugh was simply the next person around the corner, unfortunately for the Saracens; their next victim was a trained man-at-arms.

They had come out from hiding, and stood all around Hugh, and had as usual, demanded all of his money and valuables. He drew his sword and charged the nearest one from horse-back, before the other two could react. The Saracen bandit had drawn his own sword too defend, but Hugh was quicker. His own blade connected with the bandit's neck and had caused a huge gash down his neck and chest. Hugh swung his horse into a full turn, and blocked the closest Saracens blade with his. He used the momentum of his blade and pushed the Saracens blade aside. He swung his sword around and slammed the edge through the bandits Helmut and crushed the Saracens skull.

Hugh swung his horse around again, and turned to face the last bandit. The final Saracen stood about five feet away with a short spear. Hugh smiled and dismounted and leapt down off his mare. He stood face too face with the final bandit and brought his sword up in a high guard. The bandit charged forward and thrust the spear tip at Hugh's chest. Hugh dodged too the right and grabbed the wooden shaft of the spear. He yanked back hard and pulled the weapon from the Saracens grasp. Hugh dropped the spear to the ground behind him, and charged the now unarmed bandit. He swung his sword and slashed the bandit's torso, causing a cut in the Saracens shirt, and a gash across his shoulder blade and chest. The man fell on his back and Hugh swung his blade around too deliver the finishing blow. Before it landed the man began screaming one word in Greek, but with a heavy Arabic accent. "Mercy!"

"What!" Hugh asked as he stopped his blade in mid-swing.

"I'm sorry about attacking you! We were only trying too make some money!" the Saracen answered.

Hugh stepped forward and placed the tip of his blade against the bandit's neck. "You mean, you were stealing some money!"

The Saracen suddenly got a defensive look. "You 'Franks' aren't the only ones with kings who set unfair taxes1"

Hugh closed his eyes for a second, clearly arguing with himself. He opened them again. "You have a camp nearby? Horses?"

"Yes." the bandit replied and pointed behind him. "Over the hill"

Hugh walked back too his horse, and mounted back up. He rode too where the bandit was now trying too gain his footing as he stood up. "Show me."

A half hour later Hugh let the bandit ride off on his horse with enough food and water too make it back too Amman. Hugh now stood in the bandit campsite alone and was looking over the bandits captured booty. More than two hundred pieces of gold, and six hundred pieces of silver. 'These raiders really fleeced the local pilgrims.' Hugh thought. Hugh carried the loot out of the tent one box at a time and stacked it up in the center of the small campsite. He grabbed a small hand spade he found among the raiders camp tools, and dug a moderately sized hole and buried all eight boxes.

Hugh stood up and began too walk back too his horse when he heard something like a spring go off behind him. He started too turn when something instantly pierced his shoulder, and a hot searing pain shot through his neck and arm. He fell on his hands and knees and glared at his shoulder and found a crossbow bolt stuck in him. He glared back over his shoulder and saw someone in black standing on the hill he and the bandit had ridden over. Hugh studied the man's features, and found the man wore a black turban wrap over his face except for his eyes. He was clearly an Arab, but not one of the bandits. The black-garbed man grabbed another bolt and loaded the crossbow.

Hugh drew his sword and tried too stand. He turned and tried too make it too his horse. The crossbow went off again and sent another bolt towards Hugh. The bolt hit Hugh in the back of his leg just above the calf. Hugh grunted in pain and fell on his knees again. He dropped his sword, reached around to the back of his leg and yanked the arrow out with a scream of pain and agony. He heard a thud behind him, turned, and saw that the black-garbed assailant had jumped off from the steep part of the hill and had landed on his feet. He stood up, dropped his cross bow, drew a sword and began walking towards Hugh.

The wounded Norman looked this way and that, and saw that his sword had fallen out of reach. As the mysterious Arab approached, Hugh saw a stone not two inches from his hand. He reached for it, grasped it firmly. Knowing he had only one shot, he prayed for a fraction of a second, turned, and hurled the large stone at the Arab. It flew from Hugh's hand and across the short distance and connected with the Arabs temple. The blacked-garbed Arab's head contorted backwards, and the man fell too the ground.

Hugh stood up, retrieved his sword, and walked over too where the man had fallen. The Arab was clearly dazed, and wasn't moving much. Hugh held his sword over the mans chest and shoved it down into the Arabs heart. The man awoke, screamed for a fraction of a second, spasmed a moment, then died. Hugh ripped his sword out, swung it above his head and brought it down with all the force he could muster at the corpse's neck, decapitating the dead man. Hugh stood up and kicked the dead mans head across the campsite, and sheathed his sword back in his scabbard. Limped over and picked up the dead Arabs sword, and crossbow. He secured them across his back and walked back too his horse, remounted with difficultly, and trotted fast for the road. 'Too far too ride for Acre or Haifa. I'll have too try for Nazareth.' Hugh thought with hesitation. He turned south-east and galloped away at great speed.

A good two hours had now passed since Hugh's fight and his exodus from the scene. He was barely staying awake, which he couldn't do anything about. He had pulled the arrows from his body and had tied off the wounds. Though by the time he had done this, he had already lost a lot of blood. And in the mid-June sun he was using his water supply up quickly. If he didn't get too a watering hole in about an hour he would pass out and then would in all probability die of dehydration.

Hugh's thoughts kept drifting back towards the masked attacker. He hadn't been a Saracen, or a bandit. He was an Arab and well trained in fighting. His sword was a fairly common type in the Holy Land, but his crossbow was of Flemish make. The very fact he was carrying a cross bow was odd. Arabs usually used compound bows, which was made of a layer of sinew, and horn. Also he had been wearing black in the middle of the dessert, during the daylight. Arab soldiers knew very well that they would dehydrate faster wearing black during the day. 'A real oddity.' Hugh thought, trying too keep his mind from slipping into a hazy state.

The Normans horse was doing much better. His mare was also very close too falling down dead. Hugh knew he had too keep his horse up and going or he was god as dead. Walking the road in his condition was a death sentence. He took his wine sack filled with what was left of his water and put it in his horse's mouth and held it upside down. If he was too survive, his horse would have too make it.

Another half-hour passed. The sun was setting quickly. Hugh came around a bend in the road that curved around a hill. When he was completely around the hill, he came into view of a medium sized wall not three hundred feet away. The road continued on until stopping into a pair large wooden brown gates, which were closed. He slapped the reins on the horse too get it too pick up the pace. The horses walk quickened, and it looked like he would make it without further incident. This illusion was revealed as such after the horse carried him another hundred-feet, then began too quiver and shake. Hugh hurried and dismounted has his horse fell over collapsed into a heap.

A mere two hundred feet from the large wooden doors, Hugh began limping too the gates. His attempt at walking reopened the wound on his leg. He managed too carry himself another hundred feet, before falling too his knees. He yelled as loud as he could, but wasn't getting anyone's attention, inside of Nazareth. He had one chance. He took the crossbow off his back and the two bolts that had struck him, from a pouch on hanging from his belt. He cocked back the wire on the crossbow, and loaded the bolt. He aimed it at the wooden gate and fired. The bolt struck the door with a loud thud. He heard commotion on the other side of the gates. Then voices. He re-cocked the crossbow and loaded his last bolt. He used his last bit of strength aimed and fired. The bolt hit right next too the first one. He heard shouts on the other side and saw the gates begin too open. He dropped the crossbow, and watched. The gates opened all the way and two knights walk out in white tunics, and black capes with a white Maltese crosses, and swords drawn..

Hugh sighed in relief. "Hospitallers...thanks the Lord..." he muttered too himself before passing into blackness.

The two Knights of the Saint John, saw the man collapse in the road, and ran over too him, resheathing their swords. One of them knelt down and felt Hugh's pulse and then leaned down and listened for a heartbeat. "He's still alive! Help me get him inside!" One knight grabbed his arms, while the other grabbed his feet. Together they carried him inside and had the gates shut promptly behind them.

The three men stood around the bed where the young man was resting. All three of them were knights, but the oldest one, who stood in the middle, was the only doctor. He put a rudimentary wooden funnel too his ear and then knelt down beside the mans' chest. He listened too the young mans strong heart beat. He stood back up and nodded. "He'll be fine. Blood loss, dehydration, and exhaustion took their toll on him. But he is very strong, and he'll recover."

One of the younger men next too him asked. "Any idea who he might be?"

"None." answered the other young man.

"Where are his belongings?" asked the older doctor.

The young man on his left pointed too a table on the other side of the quarters. The older man walked over and looked at the pile of clothes, chainmail armor, and weapons. He looked at the yellow and blue tabbard and surcoat with a coat-of-arms that consisted of a white war galley, which had two bloodied swords on its sail. He then looked at the armor. And then saw his sword. Around its handle, it had beautiful silk veil tied several times around the wooden grip. It was black, with a yellow crescent moon embroidered on it. "This is odd." stated the old man.

"What? The coat-of-arms?" asked the man on his right.

"No. The coat-of-arms tells me he is probably a Norman." the old man replied.

"As am I." the other young man said.

The old man turned his head and smiled, "Don't worry. We can forgive you for that."

The man on his right laughed, and the other one grumbled, but even he cracked a smile after a few seconds.

The old doctor returned his attention back too the sword. "What I think is odd is this veil."

"What about it, is odd?" the Norman knight asked.

"It's obviously a woman's. He carries it as some kind of token." the doctor answered.

"Maybe it's his wife's." guessed the other young knight.

The old man was in thought. "No. He didn't have a ring. Plus, I feel I have seen this veil before. I just can't be sure." he paused for a moment. "Lets leave this man too rest for know. We can't do anything more for him." The other two nodded and all three left the room and shut the door behind themselves.

The servant girl, Isabel, entered the room several hours later and began her duties of changing the sheets and gathering laundry. She looked over and saw the young man lying in bed, covered to the waist by a sheet. She walked over and looked down at him. His short black hair, and well trimmed beard accented his face well. "You're too cute. I hope you get better." she said while giggling. She turned and walked over too the table too get his clothes too send down too be washed when she saw his sword lying next too his armor and surcoat.

She picked up the sword and glared at the veil tied too the handle. Looking at the handle she noticed the yellow crescent sewed on too the veils black surface. She nearly dropped the sword when it dawned on her where she knew this veil. She laid the sword down gently, and walked out the door quietly and shut it gently.

She walked across the city, quickly, with a thousand questions on her mind. She stepped. Through the gates of Eznik, a rich Armenian merchant who lived in the city and knocked at the large wooden door. A few seconds passed when the door slowly opened. One of the merchant's private guards opened the door and smiled when he saw Isabel. "How can I help 'Bella?"

"I need too speak with the lady if she will see me." Isabel answered

The guard let her in and informed her too stay in the main antechamber while he went too the lady's chamber and informed her. Isabel didn't wait long, when she heard a familiar voice. "Isabel. What brings you here this late?" she turned and saw the beautiful image of Lucine walking down the staircase.

"I have found something of yours milady." Isabel replied.

Lucine looked concerned. "Something of mine?"

"Do you remember what happened too the veil your father gave you for your tenth birthday?" Isabel asked.

Lucines expression changed from a look of concern too one of confusement. Then she smiled for the briefest of moments, as if remembering something extremely happy. Quickly her look went back too a controlled, emotionally blank look. " I lost it on the road almost for years ago. Why?"

"I have found it in the possession of a young knight." Isabel said reading Lucines face. What she read was someone who was hooked on her every word she said.

"When? Where?" asked Lucine a look of deep interest in her eyes.

Isabel was careful how she said this next piece of information. "He is a patient at the hospital of the Knights of St. John. He was wounded from battle, but is recovering."

Lucine braced her hand against the wall as if she needed support. "Will you please take me too him?"

Isabel nodded. "Come with me milady."


End file.
